Roots - Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: The New Order


Holden Heavyhammer the new king of Iirrodyl sat heavily upon his throne, arms heaving up in a great sigh. His attendants ran to him at once with goblets of the finest wine and freshly roasted turkey legs. The king took these greedily and sent them away. His new visitor would be here shortly.
“Captain,” He called to the bustling table of guards across his great hall.
A tall, broad man stood instantly and rushed to the king's side.
“Your majesty, how may I serve you?” He said from the ground in a deep bow. The captain knew all too well the king's temper, and he didn't hold such a last name for naught. The captain eyed the large rune covered warhammer at the king's side as he stood.
“Sit, captain, I wish to discuss important matters.” The captain sat slowly and erect; alert for any sign of a flare up. “As you know, we have a visitor today: sorcerer of extreme prowess. I fear he will not like what I have to say, for the likes of him never travel far without cause, nor would a king allow such to meet his ears.”
“Have no fear my liege, would you like a post at all times and archers around the room?”
The king shook his head and raised his great hands to silence his loyal captain.
“That will not be necessary Captain Nour; I merely meant I would like a magic user of our own to keep tabs on his thoughts.”
Captain Nour shifted uncomfortably, the castle’s only magic wielder was an odd fellow, very discreet and mysterious. The captain knew he had a dark history but no details.
“Are you certain?” He pleaded. The king eyed him suspiciously.
“You fear him.” The king decided, not a real question.
“No, I fear his magic. I don't trust it. Too uncontrollable and wild, like trying to tame fire.” The captain argued. “Even if you manage it you get burned.”
The king's hysterical laughing brought him down from his mood.
“Surely this isn't because of his display?” The king prodded.
Captain Nour stood at once and bowed before leaving without a word. The king's laughter echoed at his back. Nour was no fool and dared not defy King Heavyhammer's orders. He walked briskly up the winding staircase, his heavy footfalls clumping loudly against the stone walls tightly wound about him.
“What kind of fool takes his keep in a tower held to the castle by wooden struts? Especially one as cursedly tall as this.” The captain muttered as he ascended slowly. He could only imagine what the tower outside must looks like from his height.
The Astronomy Tower stood twice as tall as any other and was indeed held to the castle's frame by several wooden support beams against and beneath it like spindly, spider legs.
“To top it off, the damn thing's not even in the ground!”
The tower was held over the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean and hung against the beams, clutching for a handhold. Often a shift would bring the tower down and inch or two then recover by the spells holding it to the foundation.
The captain reached for the doorknob to open the door but found only air as it opened before him.
“Greetings, Captain Nour!” A scrawny old man called from across the room in billowy robes much too large for him. A scarecrow with cloth hanging from its' branches stood before him with a thin bristled face like that of a rat and beady eyes as white as the clouds around them. His clothes were a deep maroon and smelled of incense.
In fact, the entire room did.
Hundreds of items Nour could never explain hung from shelves on every wall from the floor to the ceiling and a few from the ceiling itself. Bottles and jars and beakers, tubes, needles, feathers, rope, string, cloths, wax, bubbling liquids and boiling gases, shimmering utensils, odd stains, dead frogs and small creatures impaled by scissors and pins, paintings of mysterious men in dark places, and a large orb upon a pillow.
Nour eyed these dark trinkets suspiciously and shook his head.
“Lord Heavyhammer wishes to council with you.” He said slowly and surely, making sure his mind and body were his own. He hated this man and his dark arts for all they were worth.
“So I have heard.” The old man creaked as he popped the cork out of a still smoking concoction. He slurped it loudly and wiped his greasy lips on the back of his sleeve. The distinct smell of torch oil wafted to Nour's nostrils. “I shall be down shortly. Just a few experiments I need to complete.”
Nour strode forward threateningly but stopped short of his target and bowed up instead.
“The king calls you now. He has not the time to wait for your crazy antics nor do I. Be done with it and follow me this instant, another wizard arrives.”
The man turned slowly to face the captain. His eyes seemed swollen as if he had just swallowed a bug and his face blanched an odd yellow-like color.
“Who? Did he tell you his name?” He spluttered urgently, moving forward suddenly and grasping Nour's collar roughly.
“No, now get off me!” Nour pushed the old man off and shook away the thought of knocking him out and dragging him there. “Get your act together old man and let's move!”
“Yes, yes you're right. Come quickly I have a path set aside for the king.” The old man said motioning to a small circular rug in the corner. It's color was a faded green, like the jade of a poison and shone in the dim firelight.
“Is that thing glowing?” The captain exclaimed. “And is that painting above it rippling?”
“Nonsense, paintings do not ripple. There is a draft in here, nothing but the wind o' paranoid one. Now come quickly.” He said as he pulled Nour to the path.
“Just what is a path?” He sneered as he tried to hide his fear.
“It's a portal of sorts. Brings you exactly where the other is, which is by the king's throne who beckons us!” He gasped.
Captain Nour stopped instantly, the old man still trying to pull him collapsed at the sudden halt.
“No way. You must be out of your mind if you think I would go in such a thing!”
The old man stood and sighed.
“Do you really want to walk down all those stairs again?” He asked wickedly, an eerie glint in his eye. Nour debated then shook his head and turned away for the stairs. A brief gust of wind rustled behind him then was gone in an instant.
* * *
By the time he reached the great hall the king and old man were already discussing matters urgently and in a whisper. Nour quickened his pace to catch the plans but as soon as he arrived the conversation ended.
“Ah, Nour, you've finally arrived.” The king jested. “What took you so long?”
“It's my fault; I should have brought him with me.” The old man said in an obviously false guilt.
“Nonsense, it is his own fears that are to blame. What have you to say for yourself?” King Holden Heavyhammer commanded.
“Nothing,” The captain replied. “My fault is my own. Along with my fears.”
“Good, now leave, I believe our guest will be here very soon. Bring him in when he does.”
Nour bowed deeply and swept away in a hurry to leave them. His anger was rising to a dangerous level.
“King's not the only one with a temper.” He said to himself shaking his fists at his sides. He stormed outside and relished the cool night air on his skin. His armor had grown heavy across all those steps and his back ached terribly.
“If I never see another magic user it will be too soon.” He said aloud just as a hooded figure appeared before him. It was a short man, terribly thin with a great hunch. The outline of his spine shown through his crimson cloak like a coral snake about to strike. His face was exposed and thin like a skeletal grin torn across his head with a thin gray goatee. His eyes were a faint orange that shone even in the night and glinted with malice.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Captain Nour.” The man's liquid voice poured. “And no we haven't met.” He added in a smooth voice like velvet in the wind.
“This way,” Nour pointed taken back and lead him to the great hall. He couldn't help but watch the man's limp and for a moment nearly felt pity for the man. Then the doors ahead opened as they neared it with a glow and the fleeting feeling was gone.
“King Heavyhammer.” His velveteen voice cooed. “It is an honor.”
The king nodded and smiled.
“--For you to meet me.” The small, crooked man continued.
The room instantly fell silent.
“How dare you.” King Heavyhammer bellowed. “I am the king of these lands, and you, you are nothing but an insignificant man obviously too weak to even stand against gravity.”
The small man smiled a crooked grin at the king, then suddenly jerked his head to the far right of the room to the dark corner balcony. The man's eye winked and the king's wizard screamed and leapt from the railing spread-eagled.
Every eye in the room watched him land with a sickening smack.
“Ah, Zabonik, it’s too bad you turned against me. You were a great wizard once.” He turned back to the king. “Now, it’s your turn.”
The guards rushed at the man from every side with weapons drawn. In the frenzy none were in rank and the attacks were off balance, easily deflected with great swipes of fiery palms and gales of wind.
The king and Captain Nour watched the blitzkrieg quickly burn out as the men were pressed back by great flashes of light. A sudden resounding crack like that of a whip and they all fell dead at the man's feet. He stepped over them slowly and clapped his hands together as if to cleanse them of chalk dust and approached the throne.
“Halt!” Nour commanded and reached for his sword. As his hand contacted the hilt it suddenly glowed bright orange and singed his palm. He cried out in surprise and pain and stared at his palm.
“Fortune favors you this day, Captain.” The man said and snapped his fingers.
Instantly Nour's sheath burst into flame and fell apart. He scrambled about and struggled at his belt as his leg caught fire, his blade sizzling white hot.
The small man walked past the panicking captain and on to Holden Heavyhammer.
“I am no fool, wizard.” The King said and held out his hammer. “But I am a King.”
He lunged at the man and swung a wide arcing blow, narrowly missing his assailant's head. He continued the onslaught, swinging wildly and constantly pressing forward.
But the small, crooked wizard easily dodged the attacks with his hands at his sides.
“You move quite agilely for an old man!” He admitted as he began to tire.
“You have seen nothing yet.” The man threatened. He backed a few paces away and stood erect with a loud series of pops and cracks. His spine was fully straightened and his back no longer hunched. He stepped forward again, this time several heads taller than the king.
“I am Mortan, the wizards' bane. I am breaker of men, usurper of magic, destroyer of kingdoms, giver and taker of life, master of many, and feared by all. I-AM-MORTAN!”
Mortan held his glowing palm at eye level to Heavyhammer, ignoring the thrashing guard nearby and began his chant.
Nour watched in agony as his king dropped to his knees, a blank stare across his face and eyes rolled back in his skull. Nour tried to stand to defend his liege but his burnt leg collapsed under his weight. He glanced down at his leg and grimaced at the charred material of his pants melted into his blistered flesh. His sword sat several feet away, jutting from the floor as the stone around it boiled and smoked a thick waxy odor.
A single scream split through the lips of the king suddenly and he flew to his feet then off them. He rose a few inches from the floor and began to convulse wildly and foam at the mouth. His body shivered and shook frighteningly then grew still.
“Your majesty!” Nour cried and leapt forward at Mortan. The wizard held his hand out without looking and scowled.
Instantly Nour froze in the air, hanging there with fists out ready to strike.
“You’re a brave man, Captain Nour,” Mortan sneered. “But foolish.”
He spread his fingers out wide like he was waving and Nour’s limbs did the same. Spread-eagled as if crucified, he slowly drifted away from Mortan and his now-still king.
“Goodbye, Captain Nour.” King Holden Heavyhammer and Mortan said in unison as if one. And Nour was thrown through the nearest window with a crash, still frozen and arms out like he was attempting to fly, and plummeted through the night down the cold buffets of wind. The glass seemed to hang beside him as he descended then disappeared as he collided into the sea with a tremendous break of the water and slipped under the surface.